


little ghost

by ladyygrey



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, But whatever, Casphardt Week (Fire Emblem), Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghost!Linhardt, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Moving On, Post-Time Skip, War time, i guess?, i mean you don't actually see it, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyygrey/pseuds/ladyygrey
Summary: As realisation dawned on Linhardt, he started to panic. He was dead, and Caspar was moving on.( title from the song 'little ghost', by sugarcub. )
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	little ghost

It took Linhardt much longer than he'd like to admit that he was, in fact, dead.

He woke up, just like he would any other day, in his bed. He didn't remember falling asleep, but that wasn't unusual. Caspar was on the other side of the small dorm bed, hugging a pillow.

When his eyes peeked open the room was flooded with light. By the positioning of the sun, it was late afternoon. Primetime for Linhardt to be asleep, yes, but not Caspar. How had nobody noticed the lack of his presence? 

The Bishop reached out his hand to tap Caspar's shoulder, but his hand phased through. What? Linhardt tried again, but he had the same results. His breath quickened and he thew the blanked up as he stood up. Linhardt stumbled over to his desk and grasped the glass on it. Upon trying to take a sip, the liquid fell through him.

If his heart were still beating it would've stopped. The glass slipped through his hand, breaking into tiny pieces upon coming in contact with the floor.

With the sound of shattering glass Caspar shot up. Linhardt fell to the floor; if he'd been able to feel pain, his calf would have been throbbing as it fell straight onto glass. Caspar looked right at him, and for a split second, Linhardt thought he could see him. But instead, he kneeled in front of him, picking up the shards with his bare hands.

"Caspar," Linhardt mumbled as he attempted to cup his cheek, hoping that he just might be able to hear him. But alas.

After the glass was all picked up and Caspar's hands were all cut, he stood and walked over to the trash bin, stepping right through Linhardt. If Linhardt were to think of a word or two to describe that experince it would maybe be terrifying, possibly horrifying, and definitely surreal.

He could almost swear that a drop of Caspar's blood fall through him.

Caspar sat down on the edge of Linhardt's bed, fumbling to bandege up his hands. It wasn't something he normally did for himself. Every once and a while he'd attempt to, but after doing a terrible job of it, Linhardt would just laugh fondly and take care of it for him.

The memory made Linhardt tear up, and after studying Caspar's face he could tell that he was thinking about the same thing.

Once his hands were crudely bandaged Caspar did the unexpected and crawled back into bed, grabbing Linhardt's favorite blanket and pulling it up to his face. Linhardt let out a strangled sound, and dragged himself from the floor over to the bed, then next to Caspar.

"I'm right here." he whispered, as if talking would ruin the moment, even though Caspar couldn't hear him. There was a stray strand of hair on Caspar's face that he wished so dearly that he could just brush it away. Brush it away and tell him that everything was fine, that he was right in front of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was almost like watching a movie, Linhardt thought. You watch everything happen, you get to know characters, see thier flaws, but there will always be that wall seperating you.

It was like torture.

After a few days of Caspar sulking in Linhardt's room, his old room, he finally gathered up his training gauntlets and headed out to the training grounds. 

That was the day Linhardt found out that if he was far from Caspar his body would be wracked with an intense burning sensation. So from that day on he was basically, practically, Caspar's shadow. His ghost.

Ha, wouldn't one think Caspar would be the ghost instaead?

The training dummy was distroyed by the time Caspar was worn out. Over the hours they were there people came and went. Petra, then Lysithea, then Ferdinand and Bernadetta. Ashe came, but after shooting a few arrows, his eyes halted on Caspar. 

Not realizing he had an audince, the Warrior contined to beat the dummy until with one final punch, it tipped over, a piece of fluff falling out of it's ripped chest.

Ashe's eyes drifted over to his friend's gauntlet clad hands, they were positively wrecked. "Hey," the archer said, Caspar's head shot up, just now seeing him there after all this time, "You may wanna get you're hands fixed up. I'm sure Mercedes would help you..." 

Caspar looked down at his bruised hands before looking back at Ashe, "Yeah, maybe. Do you know where she is?"

Ashe scratched the back of his neck. Something he did when he was nervous or didn't know what to say, Linhardt noticed. "Uhm, probably in the cathedral or maybe the infermary helping Manuela."

Linhardt almost laughed at how awkward this exchange was, but stopped himself even though nobody could hear him. 

Caspar peeled of his gauntlets and turned towards the entrance, saying a quick thank you, but Ashe grabbed his arm, stratling both Linhardt and Caspar. 

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry. About Linhardt."

Caspar nodded, eyes trained on the ground. After realizing his hand was still gripping his arm, Ashe quickly pulled it away. "I hope you find Mercie," he said. Caspar nodded and walked away.

He did, in fact find Mercedes. She was in the infirmary, just like Ashe said she might be. "Oh, Caspar, whatever happened to you?" she asked in a tone only Mercedes herself could use.

While Mercedes busied herself with fixing up Caspar, Linhardt wandered around the room. He'd grown quite accustomed to the infirmary and the lingering scent of blood. Ever since the war started he'd been spending more and more time in here and less and less in the library. But between napping and Crest research, why pick something that'll be useless in a few years?

Not like it mattered now, though.

"And...done!" she said, gingerly patting his hands. "Now, don't let that happen again. Please. We both know he wouldn't want you overworking yourself like that." she said, adding the last part almost as if it were an afterthought. Like she didn't know if it was okay to bring it up. 

And when Mercedes said 'he' she very clearly meant Linhardt. Caspar nodded and gave her a thank you smile. Goddess, even while mourning, Caspar's smile could light up a room, Linhardt thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The fact that he was, in fact, dead wasn't particularly and issue to Linhardt. Death never scarred him per say, hell, sometimes when the war got bad, he longed for it. It was more that he'd never be able to touch Caspar again, never have a conversation with him again. 

It was lonely, he wasn't going to lie. He saw everybody, but nobody saw him ( aside from the occasional dog or cat ). Like a movie.

Sometimes at night, after Caspar had fallen asleep, he'd read. A few months after his death Linhardt found out that, while he couldn't touch people, he could hold objects just fine. His books made his days much less boring, but he could only read at night, leaving his days wide open.

While he'd like to say he could live a life only looking at Caspar all day, that'd be a lie. He needed some type of stimulation in his life. Was life the proper word? He was a ghost, after all.

Sometimes Caspar would take Linhardt to the training grounds, or the dining hall, even the fishing pond once in a blue moon. When they had battles Linhardt would just stand there, anxiety brewing in his stomach from not being able to do anything when one of his friends got hurt. 

That was the routine. The same places over and over again.

But one evening, Caspar took him somewhere he hadn't been since long before Linhardt's death. 

The graveyard.

Among the rest of the graves was Linhardt's. There was a bouquet of flowers in front of it, a color scheme that only someone as fashionable as Dorothea could've picked out. 

Caspar plopped in front of it, just staring at the name carved into the stone. Linhardt von Hevring. For a moment he wondered why he was buried on the monastery's grounds instead of on his family's property, but that didn't matter. He preferred it here anyways. 

It was nice and quiet and Linhardt was enjoying the sunset. He did feel a slight twinge in his gut when he tried to grab Caspar's hand, but they passed through, though. 

After many minutes, he heard a slight crunch behind them. He and Caspar turned their heads to find Ashe standing awkwardly behind them, a small bunch of flowers in his hands.

"I just, I, flowers." Ashe said, stumbling over his words. He was like that around Caspar in recent months. After he placed them and started to shift away, Caspar stopped him.

"You can stay," he said.

Ashe blinked a few times, before sitting down next to Caspar, "Okay."

Dare Linhardt say he started to feel like a third wheel. Well, maybe he was. Nobody knew he was there.

And that night, to Linhardt's surprise, Caspar slept in his own room. There were no books for Linhardt to read, so he slept next to him. Just like old times.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a few nights of alternating between Linhardt's and his own room, Caspar set his face, grabbed a box, and ventured into Linhardt's room.

There were a few things he grabbed immediately, Like Linhardt's favorite blanket, his journal, his old hair ribbon. Then he grabbed a few books and his old Bishop's robe.

As realisation dawned on Linhardt, he started to panic. He was dead, and Caspar was moving on.

"C'mon, Caspar, see me. Please. See me." he said pacing around his room and waving in front of Caspar's face. "I'm here, why can't you see me? Why can't you see me!" And with his final words he smacked a book of the shelf and onto the floor.

Caspar stopped.

"Cas, I'm right here." he whispered, standing right in front of Caspar, praying to the Goddess that he could see him. But to Linhardt's dismay, Caspar just stared right through him. And Linhardt was sure that he could hear his own heart break.

Caspar grabbed the rest of the stuff, and left. Linhardt felt as Caspar grew farther and farther and let himself be consumed by sadness and the burning that came with being away from him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next few weeks Caspar ( and by extention, Linhardt ) had been spending lots of time with Ashe. Linhardt would being lying if he wasn't the slightest bit jealous.

If anyone knew what it was like to be in love with Caspar, it was Linhardt. And Ashe very obviously in love with him. On one hand, he knew that he now had no say over what Caspar did. If he chose to persue Ashe, he'd had to stand by and watch. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

And one night when Caspar took Linhardt to his grave and asked thin air if he'd mind if he were to kiss Ashe, Linhardt just smiled, and said, "No, no I wouldn't."

Linhardt knew that Caspar had heard him that time, because that night he asked Ashe if he'd be his boyfiend, just as he had asked Linhardt. Ashe had said yes of course, Caspar wasn't just a person someone would pass up.

He was practically perfect in Linhardt's eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> the entire time i wrote this i just listened to six: the musical and i think it influenced me multiple times, to tell you the truth. although, i do feel like this is a bit all over the place. just a bit wonky.
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated! <3


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